Maria and I are heading to Brandon, Vt. this morning to drop off the wool sheared earlier this summer and convert it into skeins and rovings. It’s one of our favorite rituals. The ride is about 90 minutes each way, and we usually have lunch in Brandon. Maria loves having sheep and selling wool and has a long list of loyal spinners and sewers.

We brought hay out to the sheep for the first time. They are still eating grass, but there isn’t much protein in the autumn grass; it’s getting older. We’ll move to grass entirely at the beginning of November.

I discovered a rat in the bathroom the other night, the first rat we’ve ever seen in the house – too much rain and no cats inside. I got a rat trap and found the rat dead this morning. I’ll set up more traps this evening, just in case. No, Zip is not coming inside.

Some people would rather not see a dead rat in the morning, but this is life on a farm; I don’t want to dramatize it, but I don’t want to hide it. It is a beautiful life, but not a perfect one, of course. That would be stifling and boring. More later. We’ll be back early this afternoon.

The rat was killed in a trap quickly and cleanly. I think he’s the only one.

Life goes on. And on. Mojo is coming out of St. Joseph; I’m drawn to taking a picture of him daily. Just in case, he’s paying attention. I’ve got to pay the mortgage this week. Maybe he’ll donate. I love the perspective from this angle.